To Kill a Mockingjay
by Harmlessly Weird
Summary: The title says it all.
1. Crane

He paced his fancy Head Gamemaker's quarters, considering the girl always on his mind. Katniss Everdeen. What was he to do with her?

_That girl,_ he mused,_ such entertainment. But if she dies, it'll be_ better _entertainment_.

On that happy thought, he turned, Gamemaker's robes swishing around him, and left to get a cup of coffee.

Two hours later, Seneca Crane surveyed the other Gamemakers. All had dark circles under their eyes and were clutching their cups of black coffee, taking frantic sips from them every few seconds.

To his left, Kierana Valance, one of the smartest women he had ever met.

To his right, Plutarch Heavensbee, a nosy busybody that wanted to know everything about the Games. But Plutarch did his job well, so Seneca let his nosiness pass.

Then were Alayna, Marcellus and Jove. Scorpia, Moneta, Anine and Maximus.

"Thank you all for coming," he began.

"Cut to the chase," Kierana mumbled, a tendril of brown hair almost falling into her coffee.

"How do we kill Katniss Everdeen?"

That got their attention. Moneta and Lania took a last sip of coffee, and everyone else watched Seneca. Finally, Scorpia voiced for all of them, "_Kill_ Katniss Everdeen?"

"It's the best entertainment strategy," Seneca said.

"Madness," Kierana proclaimed.

"We don't want to decide the victor," Seneca objected. "By protecting her, that's essentially what we do."

Alayna said, "All right. Raise your hand if you agree to kill Katniss Everdeen."

Marcellus, Maximus, and Anine did so. Moneta glanced at the circle of ten Gamemakers smiling grimly from the ceiling – the first group of Gamemakers, the ones who created the first ten Games.

Scorpia frowned.

"It makes no sense," she said in her District Two accent.

Seneca had always wondered why Scorpia had been invited from a disgusting, smelly district to become a Gamemaker. But then Scorpia had proved herself smart, innovative, worthy of the position with her interesting ideas and clever mechanisms. Seneca didn't know why a _district_ girl was so smart, but there you were.

"Why is that, Miss Reddick?" he said. He never referred to the Gamemakers by their given names. It was always by their last names.

"Sir, Katniss Everdeen might be made to win," Scorpia said cautiously, aware that she was treading on thin ice.

Seneca's eyebrows disappeared into his mane of graying hair.

"You see, a rule change –"

"Miss Valance mentioned this idea before. It has been vetoed. We are killing Katniss Everdeen. Mr. Kaite, fire. Either kill her or drive a large number of tributes to her. She can climb – if you can, Miss Lirgan, tree her. Stick tracker jackers in her tree," he said, warming to the idea. "That'll finish her off."

Maximus and Anine both saluted and left.

Moneta leaned forward, putting her fingertips together. "Sir, how to phrase this delicately…"

"Miss Yashav?"

"Sir, what if she survives?"

"Survives tracker jackers?" Plutarch snorted.

"There is that possibility," Seneca admitted grudgingly. "But let's assume she doesn't."

"Let's let the boy win," Kierana said. "Tragic love."

"No, no, no," Plutarch said. "Let the Eleven girl win."

The other seven Gamemakers left in the room jumped up. "Heavensbee, you're insane!" cried Marcellus.

"Just an idea," Plutarch said, shrinking into his chair. Plutarch was older than Seneca, but somehow managed to project the shy demeanor of a schoolkid in trouble.

"If she survives," Seneca said slowly, "we make the rule change Miss Valance proposed earlier. It is no longer vetoed, but she has to _survive_ first. It's highly unlikely she will. Tracker jackers, fire, a possibility of several other tributes...Mr. Kaite has probably already started the fire. Let's get down the control room and watch Katniss Everdeen die."


	2. Snow

"You are dismissed, Mr. Puo," Snow hissed.

Gnaius Puo bowed low and left his quarters quickly.

Snow didn't get up. He ate some small vanilla cookies off the plate next to his chair. Chew, chew, swallow, repeat. A simple, easy action. If only killing Katniss Everdeen would be that easy.

The misguided ones in the districts, he heard, were calling her the _Mockingjay_ – strange name, if you asked him. Just for a pin. Mockingjays didn't have any symbolic significance. It was just the pin.

He remembered her face when he told her that there was rebellion. There was shock, yes, shock she tried to hide but that was revealed by the widening of her eyes, the slight opening of her mouth. Shock, and a glimmer of hope, hidden behind the sadness in those gray eyes.

_Hope_.

She actually wanted rebellion.

He picked up another vanilla cookie, then crushed it to powder. It only served to remind him of that failure of a meeting, where Peeta Mellark's cookies had been served to him.

_Ugh_.

Peeta Mellark was almost as bad as Katniss Everdeen. If she was a mockingjay, he was a lovebird. The tragic lost lover of the poor girl. The tragic lost lover that almost killed himself along with her. The tragic lost lover that _sparked a rebellion_.

If Peeta Mellark hadn't declared his love, the girl would've been able to survive, maybe win on her own, no need for the almost-suicide. Then she'd be another victor with a rebellious streak. Snow would've enjoyed getting money for the girl on fire, and killing the hunter boy if she didn't cooperate.

But _no_, Mellark had told the country he was in love with Everdeen, and rebellion had resulted. _That_ was why boldness needed to be crushed out of the districts.

Again, he visualized her, this time when he shook his head no to her query. She had _straightened up_. She had gotten _hopeful_. Maybe she was more unfeeling than he had thought. Maybe she didn't care if Mellark or Hawthorne died. Maybe she _wanted_ them to die.

If that was the case, he couldn't force her to do anything. He needed her dead and gone, forever.

His eyes flicked up to the ceiling. The upcoming Quarter Quell would be a perfect chance to get rid of her.

It was a little-known – in fact, _un_known – secret that the president chose every Quarter Quell and came up with a reason for it. It helped keep the country in line, and gave them a chance to exercise their creativity.

First, President Tarsh Glay had done the voting Games. That had been nifty, Snow had to admit. It increased the distrust in the districts and stuck a bunch of misfits in the arena, not the usual volunteering crowd from One, Two and Four.

Then twenty-five years before, Snow had announced his smartest idea – the double Games. So _many_ gory deaths. The Games' popularity soared.

Now, he had a problem. It wasn't too hard to figure out a solution. Snow knew what he would do.

He would air it after Everdeen's photo shoot. She'd feel a little delight, a little horror at the same time. Then _this_ would air, and she would scream. He imagined her scream with pleasure.

He picked up a pencil and wrote on a memo pad, _As a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot stand against the Capitol, this year's tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors_.

He licked his puffy lips in relish. He was ready to see Katniss Everdeen die.


	3. Coin

She watched the artist calmly. He was scared, really, to present to her the new seal of the rebellion. She was getting sick of seeing the same mockingjay in the same position everywhere.

"Miss President, ma'am," he said, almost stuttering, tripping over his own words slightly. "If there's something wrong with it, just tell me. I'll change it right away."

"Certainly," Coin said coolly. The artist, seemingly reassured, lifted the cover off his giant digital screen.

Coin strode up to the beautifully rendered black-and-white mockingjay soaring out over a dilapidated city in flames. She ran perfectly French-manicured fingers – she would never waste resources on colored nail polish – over the tongues of fire. They reached toward the mockingjay like pleading arms, drawn in a hundred shades of yellow and orange and blue and red.

Coin noted that the mockingjay itself was spitting out the flames that were consuming the city.

"And it symbolizes?"

"Oppression burning down," the artist stammered. "The city's supposed to be the Capitol." He added a quick "ma'am."

"What is the mockingjay for?"

The artist blinked at her. "It's for the Mockingjay," he said uncertainly, like he was starting to worry about Coin's brain capacity.

"Naturally, naturally," Coin murmured. "It is obvious now. My apologies, Mr. Mervin."

"Melvin," the artist corrected automatically. "Lyle Melvin." Then he realized that he'd admonished the president. His already ruddy face turned the color of a cherry and he mumbled something incoherently. Coin pretended not to hear it.

"Maybe you would want to add something about a new authority," Coin suggested lightly. "We are not, after all, trying to burn this country to the ground. We are _refreshing_ it. Renewing it. Making it whole and good again."

Her spiel gave her comfort. She'd already recited it three times that day.

Lyle Melvin nodded uneasily. "Of course, Miss President."

"Just President." She wanted to make him feel more comfortable. It seemed to have the opposite effect. He visibly tightened, like he didn't want any familiarity.

"Of course, President."

"Do you have any ideas right now?" she asked for the sake of politeness. She already had her own idea and she was going to guarantee it was implemented.

"Well…no," Lyle Melvin admitted. "The thing is, Miss – I mean, President, the thing is that everyone knows the Mockingjay and…" He shifted from foot to foot.

"Just say it."

"Not as many know you."

The words hit her like a blow. She was careful to disguise her internal reaction. _The Mockingjay is more in control of this country than I am._ This was serious. _She_ was President, the one with the power.

Another thought struck her. _What if she doesn't support me when I do take power? What if she supports someone else? That upstart Elle Paylor? Orion Sicca from District One? Or Marlia Josun, or Clifford Belfrie…_she realized that just because she was ordering the Mockingjay around now didn't mean that she would always be. _She's too spirited, she will do whatever she wants!_

"I see," she said. Something must have been colder about her voice, much colder, because Melvin took a step back.

"Ma'am?"

"That will have to be remedied," she continued, more to herself than him.

"Ma'am…"

"Find something symbolizing Thirteen," she said. "Place it above the mockingjay for this."

"Yes, Miss President." Melvin had rightly guessed to revert to calling her Miss. "I will do it."

Coin walked away from him, leaving the artist staring at his seal wondering what he had done wrong.

_I need to get rid of her._

Her icy internal voice was no stranger to Alma Coin. She listened to it gratefully; it was because of its ruthless and devious advice that she was president in the first place.

_But how?_ she asked silently. She answered herself.

_You can't just give orders to have her killed. Those could be found, or people would blab. But if you find a foolproof, subtle way to kill her…_

She ground her teeth. How do you subtly kill the single most famous face in the country?

_Her squad…she might've gained their trust by now, maybe they won't take orders from me_. She couldn't risk it. It was deceitful and underhanded; although those had long transformed into empty words for her, she understood that other people didn't see their necessity. No, she couldn't give orders to Boggs or Jackson to kill Everdeen. And most definitely not her camera crew or Hawthorne.

_A rebel group could "accidently" fire on them as the enemy_, she thought idly. _They'd be taken out by the Star Squad right afterwards. No tattletales._

She was seriously considering putting this plan into action until she remembered.

The boy. Peeta Mellark. _Of course!_

It was natural. She saw the plan in her mind's eye. Peeta Mellark arrived with the Star Squad; there was a little confusion, maybe, and a few would see through the ruse – Boggs, probably. But eventually, Mellark would find an opportunity to kill Everdeen, and all of Coin's problems with the Mockingjay would be solved.

She was beyond her usefulness anyway.

_Get ready to die, Katniss Everdeen, Girl on Fire, Mockingjay_.


End file.
